Her Broken Alpha - Isoellen Page 0,75

scramble back, but Monster caught him by the neck and lifted him off the floor, bringing Berendal to eye-level.

The muscles of Monster’s upper body flexed and vibrated with anger. Naya salivated at the powerful, gorgeous display, her basest core instincts triggered by the dominance before her proper, home-trained mind took control to shame her. She liked this. She shouldn’t. It was so crude.

But she did.

"Kill him!" the crowd demanded. "End him!"

Despite the calls of the crowd, Naya could hear Monster's furious growls as he stared down the pathetic man in his grasp.

"Please!" Berendal begged.

Monster lifted him higher, then threw him down hard. Lifting his foot, he kicked the other man onto his back and planted his foot in the center of his chest—cracking his ribs, no doubt.

Next to Berendal, his so-called champion lay unconscious, possibly dead. Berendal blubbered and wheezed. The fight master with the red tie declared Monster the victor.

The crowd’s chanting faded, replaced by the rhythmic drumming of fists on balconies and feet against the floors.

Mac entered the cage next, clear-eyed, determined, and full of hate. He offered no excuse or explanation for his betrayal. Behind him, the bare-chested alpha she'd seen him with before followed Mac in. Who was that man? He was simultaneously familiar and not.

Closer now, Naya noted close similarities between the men she hadn't noticed before. The shape of their eyes, the squareness of their chins—they looked related.

The announcer outside the cage yelled, "The Mad Monster has challenged Mac, his Second and Secretary, and Louis, First Scribe of the Black Robes!"

Naya hissed in surprise. Mac and the black robes?

She glanced toward the announcer. The man was leaning to his left, listening to something a hooded man was saying in his ear. Her belly sank. More betrayers.

Then she noticed another figure standing nearby, one she recognized instantly.

Crispin.

Naya's eyes darted from her former intended to the three men in the cage with her. Mac and the man named Louis were moving, watching Monster closely as they circled him like jackals.

How could it be right that Monster would face two men?

No one stepped in or protested. No one cried foul or demanded the odds be evened.

From the synchronous way the two alphas moved, she could see that Mac and Louis had fought together before. Mac was a bigger male, the classic brawny alpha. Louis was shorter and lean, but every inch of him was fast, smooth muscle fighting for survival.

Because of his unique stature, she could see how Louis had managed to pass himself off as a beta, but Naya could smell that this Louis was all alpha—and one who had faced challenges before, by the look of him.

They stalked their prey, one at his front and one at his back, attacking in tandem. While Monster avoided a blow Mac struck at his head, Louis attacked from the rear, striking at Monster’s knees and ankles.

There was no wasted grandstanding with these two. They were out to kill. No simple defeat would do.

The audience knew it, pounding out a death march without the usual shouting. Mac struck at Darre again and connected with flesh, but without weapon or feral claws like her mate, they would have to break bones or manage to knock him unconscious to subdue her alpha.

Monster had the advantage, even outnumbered, thanks to the daggers of his claws and the feral blades of his teeth. He fought like a beast, not a man.

He took their blows one after the other, but a strike to his right knee brought him down. Mac descended with fury as Louis threw himself on Monster’s back, wrapping an arm around his throat.

Monster lashed out. With those jagged claws, all he needed to do was exert force against skin and muscle to do damage.

Naya smelled the blood before she saw it.

She heard yelling that didn't come from Monster and watched as Mac fell back, his body twisted by the blow her mate had struck—a tear from his spine to his abdominals and a single bloody slash at his neck, pouring blood.

Louis was still wrapped over Monster's back, trying to choke him and punching at his head. Though a larger man, Monster was no less flexible for his size. He easily reached over his head to pull Louis off.

Naya had to close her eyes against a wave of nausea when Monster sank his claws into Louis' flesh like a hot knife through butter.

It was all brute, bloody force. Breed genetics had designed the perfect killing machine. Her killing machine.

Standing up, Monster took